


Everlasting

by c_and_o



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christian Character, Christianity, Gen, Metaphysics, One Shot, Roman Catholicism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21675346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_and_o/pseuds/c_and_o
Summary: So Love was the answer. Love was what mattered in the end. Love was the reason why things had value, and without it, any purpose, despite how grandiose it might look, ended up being utterly senseless. Again, Michael felt his soul thirsting for the origin of Love, the place where his questions would meet an answer and his hunger for justice would be finally satisfied.
Relationships: KITT & Michael Knight
Kudos: 1





	Everlasting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I don't own "Knight Rider" or any of its recognizable characters depicted in this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note - I discovered the "Knight Rider" fandom only recently. Meanwhile, I've read some amazing stories written about this universe and have to say they modulated deeply the way I looked at the main characters. There is something fascinating in the friendship between Michael and Kitt, and I think it can be a good starting point to analyze what's going on in so many lives. People search for love, sometimes in the wrong places. Within every soul resides a thirst for a higher form of Love that I believe can only be found in God. Therefore, I decided to try this same concept on Michael-Kitt's dynamic interactions, exploring how their friendship could have evolved had Michael ever become a Christian.
> 
> English is not my native tongue, so I apologize in advance for any grammar or vocabulary incoherencies you might find in this story.
> 
> Also, it is possible that this story contains some themes already developed by far more talented authors in the "Knight Rider" fandom. Any similarities which might be present were involuntary, though, and surely a consequence of my admiration for those stories. No form of plagiarism was intended.

He remembered waking up.

A strange place. Strange voices. Even stranger faces.

The strangest being his own, to which he stared at the mirror, both amazed and terrified.

He was supposed to be dead. But here he stood.

Once more, he had tempted fate.

Something inside himself told him it hadn’t been the last time.

Then a cold voice recalled him that, one day, fate would have its revenge.

One day, it would be the last time indeed.

And everything would be over.

-o-o-o-

They gave him a new name.

No past. No future. Just the here and now of a life no longer his to choose, an existence he most certainly hadn’t wished for himself.

Alone. Forever detached of everyone and everything he had once held dear. No friends. No family. No close relationships whose tender frailty could be exploited by the unscrupulous criminals he was supposed to bring to justice at the expense of his own humanity.

They took from him everything he had known, everything he had loved, leaving his spirit bare and exposed and utterly vulnerable. Still, instead of his hatred, they seemed to be expecting an amicable pat on the back and some sort of heartfelt appreciation.

Quiet fury was all they got. His life was not theirs to command. He would not be enslaved to an old man’s fantasy.

Hadn’t Michael taken the wrong staircase, he would never come to notice the weird underground garage, evolved in shadows. He would simply leave the Knight Estate, never to come back.

Life insisted on playing its dirty tricks on him, though.

-o-o-o-

A flash of flickering red light erupted from the darkness.

The howl of a powerful turbine cut the air.

A dark mass lunged forward, fast and precise as a ferocious predator. Or could it be an overzealous guardian?...

Then Michael’s heart skipped a beat and he barely suppressed a scream.

-o-o-o-

The British man had barely batted an eyelid after Michael, tired of mental games and veiled statements, stepped hard on the gas pedal and destroyed a whole wall in the process.

“I'd have preferred you let me open the door first”, Devon piped, all polished grins and good manners, as if trying to compensate him for the recent events. _Sorry, we just gave you a new face and a new name, without any form of consent from your part… But hey, here’s an indestructible car!_

If these people thought they could bribe him with a high-tech car, a crude disappointment awaited them.

Despite so, as they entered the highroad, Michael’s pulse inadvertently sped up with the adrenaline of driving. The thing was fast indeed.

In the end, he hadn’t been bribed. He had been wooed, captivated, seduced into an existence beyond his most exotic dreams.

Not by the promise of money, the British chap’s good-humored discourse, or the prospect of revenge.

He had been captivated by the power roaring inside the engine which propelled them forward.

He had been seduced by the promise of an everlasting friendship, an unconditional devotion, a love so great and encompassing it was willing to sacrifice itself on his behalf without second thoughts.

“Its primary function is in the preservation of human life. _Your_ life.”

It sounded too good to be true. In life, one didn’t obtain loyalty freely. Everything came with a price.

“By me, you mean anyone driving this thing?” His voice resonated with an appalling, skeptical edge.

“No, actually I mean you. Michael Arthur Long. Soon to be Michael Knight.”

It made him feel like this was a story he had once been told, one he could no longer recall in its entire complexity. For a moment, it made his soul ache for something greater, a distant, unutterable dimension beyond his desperate grasp.

Then he hid the aching fire in the most recondite corner of his spirit and kept driving. He had already received more than his share of broken hopes and struggles.

-o-o-o-

_“Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you._

_Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust._

_A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,_

_A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.”_

– Edna St. Vincent Millay, _Dirge Without Music_

Wilton Knight was dying.

That much Michael could easily figure out, despite the fuzzy, light-headiness feeling after his drive with the Knight Two Thousand. Everything around had acquired the eerie luminescence of an obscure utopia. It was hard to believe death would be soon coming for real to this room, ready to ripe away the life of another visionary in a world filled to the brim with hopeless dreams.

“One man can make a difference, Michael”, the dying man assured, grabbing his hand with a new-found intensity.

Michael’s mind revolved furiously around the possible implications of the statement, as Wilton’s grip lost his strength and he leaned back on his sickbed. There was a mysterious glint on his eyes, matching a rather peaceful smile, like the old man remained somewhat immune to the fear of his impending end. Like he knew something which Michael ignored; like he possessed a certainty, an unshakable hope the other failed to grasp… Like he believed he was not only an insignificant particle of dust at the scale of the universe, soon-to-be absorbed by the unforgiving dirt.

“My adventure has ended”, he rasped, his breaths slowing down and eyelids wanting to give in to his weariness, “and yours have just begun.”

Once more, he sounded positive about the relevance of a life on the brink of ending, as if he knew his existence had truly mattered and that his previously missed dreams were soon to be replaced by even bigger accomplishments. Suddenly, Michael hungered for a share of the man’s secret knowledge. Deep in his soul raged an unsatisfiable desire to reach the answers to all the questions he had never dared to ask.

Then Wilton’s eyes lost their strange glint for good, and the spark illuminating Michael’s spirit withered and died.

-o-o-o-

Michael worked alone.

He would never again incur in the foolishness of accepting another partner, of making himself accountable for another life, another glassy conglomerate of dreams, hopes and delusions which would someday fall to the floor, only to shatter at his feet into a thousand pieces.

He would always work alone.

But the car – or the artificial intelligence hidden underneath the hood, or whatever this thing claimed to be – insisted on commenting on his every action, from his choices of food to the best way to catch a murderer. His voice sounded rich and cultivated, so different from the metallic, impersonal clank one would expect from something as cold and logical as a computer.

Unavoidably, they clashed. They argued, and fought, and nagged each other. Boy, they did.

Two very different essences, equally sharp in their uniqueness.

They clashed. How could they not? Somehow, however, for collective awe, they kind of fit together.

Slowly, as the solved cases accumulated and he placed more and more trust in this unexpected companion, Michael could sense something changing. Something intangible was building between the two of them.

He was positive about it as soon as he abandoned the usual _Shut up!, _greeting his partner with a genuine smile instead.

_His_ partner.

But he worked alone… didn’t he?

_Partner. Buddy. Pal. _

Kitt.

-o-o-o-

_“Get drunk. One should always be drunk. That's all that matters; that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's horrible burden that breaks your shoulders and bows you down, you must get drunk without ceasing. But what with? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk.”_

– Charles Baudelaire

Michael had never been a fan of poetry, wine was out of the equation in his line of work, and virtue sounded too far-fetched for an ordinary man like himself.

Nevertheless, he too felt a victim of the vicious system which forced people to avoid being sober. Reality broke you eventually. There was no escape. Michael was no dreamer. Perhaps he had once been one, back in the time when his concerns had been frivolous, insignificant ones when compared with his actual mode of living. Life had slapped him on the face, too many times, and he had learned to keep his longings under tight control.

He had to get drunk. He needed to put behind his back the past which had slipped away through his fingers, and that he never had the chance to mourn. He could not afford a state lucid enough to consider all those amazing, blurry opportunities that could have been his, hadn’t the cruelty of a woman shot him in the face and left him to die out in the desert.

He yearned terribly for an anesthetic, anything capable of numbing the dreadful sorrow he hid well underneath his charming smile, something to quench the fire he felt burning within his soul.

He found it on women, at least partially. They provided an easy escape. After all, he was a handsome man who truly had a way with people. Those random girls prevented his mind from wandering to forbidden terrains. They kept his thoughts away from the no man’s land of shattered dreams and useless expectations. They demanded no ties. They didn’t ask difficult questions. There was just the temporary relief from the monotony of living, without any serious consequences for any of the concerned parties.

Mornings represented the worst part of his quest, though, as each new day bloomed before his eyes to reveal the type of man he was slowly, but surely growing to be. A man incapable of true commitments. An individual afraid of lasting attachments. A restless bird, flying from branch to branch, anxious for a blessed, utopic retreat for its small heart, never to find it.

Those mornings always dragged with them the heavy sting of guilt, which did nothing except exacerbate the void gnawing within.

Kitt was always quiet during such times, as Michael unceremoniously dropped his bag inside the trunk and hastily returned to the car, almost irrationally eager to leave town and move to their next assignment.

“Michael”, the AI had one day found the courage to ask, not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings, while also needing an answer to settle his concerns over the other’s erratic behavior, “what is it you’re looking for?”

His visual sensors allowed him to notice the way Michael gulped, haunted by the unanswered questions precariously piled up through his existence, and searched for the ignition, pretending he hadn’t listened.

“Let’s go, pal”, he offered instead.

Inside his processor, Kitt sighed.

A cloud of dust rose from the ground as the Trans Am sped toward other places, on a crusade for the unattainable justice that had once been Wilton Knight’s dream.

Not Michael’s dream. Not even Kitt’s. 

In the end, it didn’t make any difference.

-o-o-o-

Michael had been chosen to champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless. Despite so, for every innocent he managed to help, dozens of others suffered in the hands of criminals who operated well above the law.

He had immolated his life on the pyre of justice, and still, his sacrifice couldn’t satisfy the wrath of a world whose hands were dirty from uncountable transgressions.

Put in that way, the motif of his existence seemed a rather superfluous one – some sort of whim of a futile man who believed he could make a _real_ difference.

Why did he keep trying, then? Why didn’t he simply give up, turned his back on the Foundation and tried a new life in a new place – no more barriers, no restraints, just he and his will to live and the roaring ache for a true form of freedom consuming him from the inside out?

The answer was perhaps too simple. Something kept him stranded. There was some factor hindering him from saying goodbye to his heavy responsibilities without any form of regret. Day after day, week after week, he returned to the same leather seat, which had become a true refuge in the midst of so much uncertainty. Kitt’s voice came to be a safe harbor in the treacherous ocean of a life constantly defying death. The AI’s cultured tone, Boston accent and all – sometimes friendly, sometimes sarcastic, but ever-protective and caring –, kept his heart steadfast, tied up with a friendship so loyal, so powerful, that it exerted two opposite effects.

It was a blessing, because it kept Michael afloat, preventing him from drowning in the “what-ifs” of a lifetime.

It was a curse, for it rendered his escape utterly impossible.

-o-o-o-

Loss after loss.

Pain after pain.

Alongside with Stevie, he had hoped to enjoy the sweet, blessed existence of the common mortals.

His happiness hadn’t been more than a mirage. 

Crime had once again stepped on his path.

This time, another had taken the bullet so he could live.

But what for?

Kitt had been the only factor preventing him from taking an action so radical he would certainly come to regret it.

Michael owed a lot to his partner, and didn’t know if he would ever be capable of paying it all back.

He just wanted something real, tangible, unbreakable; something which would not shatter into dusty ashes as soon as his avid hands took hold of it.

Something _everlasting_.

Was it too much to ask?

Was he daring too much, giving karma another reason to recall him of his miserable condition?

Were his dreams too big?...

Or maybe too little…

-o-o-o-

He remembered the day when his mourning had pushed him into a church, for the first time in several years.

Except for a few people praying, the place was rather empty, illuminated by multicolored rays of light coming through the stained glasses.

The general atmosphere appeared so peaceful that he couldn’t help but to feel severely out of place.

He was supposed to be investigating. There were suspects to interrogate, criminals to catch, pieces of evidence to be traced and figured out. Somehow, Michael couldn’t bring his troubled mind to focus on the work at hand. Devon had repeatedly suggested a vacation, which his operative refused. He couldn’t stop working, or he risked to confront with all the repressed feelings since Stevie had passed away before his helpless eyes.

Without any surprise, he realized he barely knew how to behave in a church – he was sure there had to be a stipulated etiquette to which he remained obnoxious about – and, as he shut his eyes in a feeble attempt to pray, another consideration dawned on him; he didn’t know _how_ to pray.

How would he start? With a _hello? _With an _excuse me, Lord; I don’t even know what I’m doing here, I don’t know what I want; really, I was just passing by…?_

He opened his eyes, vexed at his lack of concentration, and felt ready to leave the wooden pew and get on with his mess of a life when a man extended him a pamphlet.

“The liturgical texts of the day, sir”, he explained smiling, and Michael received the paper with a suspicious expression, “just in case you manage to stay for Holy Mass. It will start in ten minutes.”

Michael stared at the pamphlet. It contained what appeared to be biblical quotes. His eyes wandered to the Gospel of the day, highlighted inside a light blue rectangle:

_“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”**[1]**_

He felt so weary.

So burdened by weights not exclusively his own, chains he had hoarded on his back throughout the years.

The invitation seemed so tempting, and yet…

He didn’t want a yoke.

He wanted to be free. Truly free. Surely true freedom didn’t allow for any type of yokes… or did it?

He didn’t stay to Holy Mass, but saved the pamphlet inside the pocket of his jacket nonetheless, just in case he wished to take another view at the text.

Which he did, in fact – many times.

-o-o-o-

With each new mission, Michael felt the growing weariness of a job he couldn’t keep up with all his life.

Try as he may, time would still be passing by, dragging with it the weight of sore muscles, creaky joints, and slower reflexes, and the sum of all those could easily get him killed someday.

On a very different hand, his partner improved day after day, unique lines of code expanding akin to a magnificent portrait, extending further than anyone could have predicted. Kitt was so much more than the microchips and circuits which gave shape to his CPU. He was one of a kind; a miracle of technology. Kitt could have his components constantly upgraded – he was virtually eternal. 

Michael couldn’t help but think it had been very selfish to get the AI stuck with a fragile human partner, whose humanity implied a limited, uncertain life-span. What would happen to Kitt when he was no more? Would they reprogram him to fit another partner? Talk him into it? Would the AI ever accept it?

He shook himself off his reveries and stared at the road ahead, stretching for miles and miles underneath his partner’s steady tires.

Perhaps the journey was almost as important as the final destination.

-o-o-o-

Devon hadn’t been a perfect man.

There had been times when Michael felt anger, discontentment and even a good dose of bitterness toward FLAG’s CEO, times when he failed to understand the other’s perspectives, decisions, and methods to accomplish his goals.

Nevertheless, Devon had been a good person, a righteous, kindhearted individual, who cared for those under his responsibility with fatherly affection.

That said, it really hurt to watch him go.

Devon departed with a similar peacefulness to what Michael had witnessed almost two decades earlier, as Wilton Knight’s eyes had closed and the millionaire’s soul had been freed from its bodily barriers.

The remembrance stung, but not as much as the image before him, while Devon’s casket disappeared under black shovels of dirt.

-o-o-o-

Devon had been the guardian of a dream. Unsurprisingly, that same dream started crumbling apart shortly after his death.

FLAG was to receive another director, and Michael nurtured no illusions – the Foundation’s original purpose was lost for good. Where Devon’s kindness had abounded, Maddock’s coldness left a trail of ruthless rationality. In a matter of scarce months, the man managed to deprive Devon’s beloved organization of its virtues. It no longer served the cause of those who had no one else to turn to. It served the interest of a half-dozen favored people who saw on the Foundation the opportunity to shine in the public eye, and maybe getting richer in the process.

Michael knew he couldn’t put up with this new scheme of things much longer. Maddock and he shared irreconcilable divergences, made more striking by the way the director treated Michael’s partner, addressing Kitt as if he wasn’t more than a primitive blob of chips and ridicule gimmicks. One didn’t have to be a computer expert to see how Kitt’s humanity surpassed that of the average person, and Maddock’s in particular. Just as the CEO started rambling about a possible _Knight 4000_, Michael’s temper ran thinner. It was time for him to abandon such a wrecked ship; this was not a path he wanted to trail anymore.

What truly worried him was Kitt. Legally speaking, his partner belonged to the Foundation, and should his superiors declare him to be dismantled, there was nothing Michael could do to prevent it. Despite being his own person, Kitt was highly vulnerable in several aspects, for he depended on the love of those surrounding him to guarantee his survival. Through the decades since his activation, that group of people had slowly faded away. Only Michael remained, stubborn as an old limpet on a rocky shore.

Devon’s testament had been a source of surprise for everyone, but especially for FLAG’s first operative, who listened dumbfounded to the attorney’s dull voice:

_“To Michael Arthur Knight, for his faithful, selfless service, I concede legal ownership of the Knight Industries Two Thousand, including both the automobile and the artificial intelligence operating the car, commonly known as K.I.T.T.”_

Michael froze on the spot, mind spinning as Maddock shot a dirty look in his direction. He felt greatly relieved, and above all grateful.

How much had Devon fought against FLAG's Board of Directors to grant him this last gift? How many sleepless nights had it costed him?

Kitt was his last gift to someone he had deeply cared for, the final accomplishment of a life which had truly mattered.

-o-o-o-

“So you’re leaving.”

Over the years, Michael had learned to read in his partner’s voice a whole set of emotions he was used to searching for on faces. Kitt hadn’t a countenance to show him, a frown to reprimand his foolishness, a grimace to express displeasure or a smile to mirror happiness. He possessed only his voice, depicted by three colorful columns next to the steering wheel.

The exercise of reading into his companion’s tone was now as natural as breathing. Behind such simple words, Michael was capable of sensing a true battle of conflicting forces – accusation, grief, fear, and a frightening dose of resignation, as the AI understood he had little to no power to get a hold of who he loved.

“Yes”, Michael confirmed. “But I was hoping I wouldn’t go alone.”

Kitt’s voice panel flashed once as if the AI was pondering on what to say.

“Michael, you’re – are you suggesting I run away from the Foundation and join you?”

“You don’t have to run away from anywhere, pal. By some trick I can’t even imagine, Devon convinced the Board to handle your legal ownership to me. You’re no longer FLAG’s to control, Kitt, neither are you mine, by the way. I want you to make a free decision. I owe you that much."

A long silence settled upon them. The daylight was disappearing behind the garage’s windows, wrapping the two friends in velvety shadows.

“I want to go with you, Michael”, Kitt finally stated, suddenly breaking the spell of the night. “Wherever you go, I wish to follow. Your life is the prime directive of my existence, after all. If you’re looking forward to a fresh start, I would be most honored if I could be beside you.”

“Thank you, pal”, Michael smiled, patting the dashboard with a gesture of genuine partnership.

At Kitt’s command, the garage doors opened and revealed the crispy breeze of the night, settled above the earth akin to a silky veil. At that moment, the two friends felt their horizons broadening and rising like a bird freed from its cage.

-o-o-o-

Fishing gave Michael a lot of time to think.

His past times of fieldwork hadn’t provided him lots of opportunities to reflect, but now that he was out of FLAG’s reach, it seemed like Time stretched leisurely and had acquired a slower pace, forsaking its previous feverish cadence in favor of a more comfortable rhythm. Now that he had no more briefings to attend, no reports to present or criminals to catch, Michael found himself with lots of time to simply exist, just he, the lake and the sleek, mysterious black Trans Am which sophisticated aspect contrasted so deeply with the simplicity of the cottage.

During the long breaks when no fishes seemed fool enough to literally take the bait and ensure him a rather tasty dinner – long gone were his rushed meals of greasy hamburgers -, Michael would sometimes open the pocket-sized Bible he had been given during another excursion to the church. He would leaf through the thin pages, admiring the contents which had somehow survived the harshness of the centuries.

“Would you read for me, Michael?”, Kitt had asked him one day, sounding sincerely curious. When they first left the Foundation, Michael had feared his partner would never get used to this new way of life, so different from their previous occupation. Somehow, however, Kitt seemed to be settling in so smoothly as his human friend, as if he too had been longing for a well-deserved retirement after years of constant fretting over his driver’s well-being.

“Sure, pal.”

He rested his back on Kitt’s customized fender and started reading aloud.

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away...’”

Michael felt his voice cracking as the immensity of those promises rang within his strained soul, a refreshing, soothing balm to his wounds. He took a deep breath and kept reading.

“And he who was seated on the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new’…[2]”

His words mixed with the chirping of the birds, singing their songs of happiness from the surrounding trees.

“Michael?”

“Yes, Kitt?”

“About the last sentence…”

“What about it?”

Kitt’s scanner swooshed from side to side while the AI pondered on how to proceed.

“Could ‘all things’ include me?”

-o-o-o-

They still went to race together.

The drill of the speed, the rush of the chase.

Not that there were any more criminals for them to catch…

They still went to race together.

There would always be criminals somewhere, but those fights weren’t theirs now. No.

They raced for the simple joy of being with one another – the speed of the car and the content hum of the powerful engine the only reminiscences of long-gone times.

-o-o-o-

During the night, Michael retreated to the comfort of his bedroom, after saying goodbye to his partner, who used the free time to recharge in the garage. Michael seldom closed the window shade, preferring to contemplate the moonlight and the blazing stars shining outside the house. His bed was big and plush, the room cozy and well-furnished, and yet Michael found himself wondering, losing hours of sleep as the splendor of the universe flashed on the starry sky. All those years fighting for justice, all those sleepless nights beside Kitt, all those blows and wounds and near-death experiences… For what exactly? What had been the purpose behind his actions? What had been his true intention, the force guiding his steps along the uneven path of life? Had it been a search for recognition? For revenge? Had any of those actions any intrinsic value? Or could it be that Michael had wasted an entire lifetime chasing a senseless goal? Would any of his previous deeds make a genuine difference? In a matter of seconds, Michael found himself questioning the past decades of his existence, a shaky breath catching in his throat.

“Michael?” The voice coming out from the comlink sounded both uncertain and concern. “Are you all right? Your vitals are unusually unstable.”

Kitt. Old, faithful Kitt, the one who had never left Michael’s side, who had gently bear so much harshness from his human partner without never losing his faith on him. Again, the concept recalled Michael of something else, something greater but undefinable, as if Kitt’s demonstration of love acted only like a dull mirror of a higher form of Love.

“Yes, pal, thanks. Just some nagging ideas keeping me awake.”

“I can keep you company, if that helps.”

“Nah, I’ll meet you at the garage myself. Hold on just a second.”

Michael untangled himself from the pile of blankets keeping him warm and headed to the garage. Kitt opened the driver’s door as soon as he noticed his presence, welcoming him silently.

“What has been worrying you, Michael?”, the AI asked, regulating the cabin’s temperature to fit the other’s needs with a grade of precision born out of many years of partnership.

“Kitt, do you ever wonder – Have you ever found yourself considering –”

“Yes?”

“...if any bit of our work with the Foundation – all the struggles and sacrifices we had to endure – was even worth something in the end?”

Kitt didn’t reply for a very long time, pondering on the question with the usual care.

“Well, Michael, I think it largely depends on what one considers to be worthy. We helped a large number of people to improve the quality of their lives. I guess that has to mean something – at least it does for me.”

“I don’t question we played an important role in those lives, but what about all the others we could not help? I’ve been getting this restlessness”, Michael punctuated the phrase by rubbing the spot over his heart, “this idea that somehow our mission would never end up accomplished anyway. No matter how much we did, or how much we suffered, there will always be exploited people out there, and we won’t be able to save them all.”

No, they wouldn’t. Once upon a time, it had been just Michael and Kitt against the rest of the world, an unbalanced struggle if one wished to be honest. They would never be capable of fighting all the fights, of catching all the law-breakers, of fixing every wrong deed and ruthless action. What mattered if they had tried, and partly succeeded, if they would never reach their ultimate goal?...

“’Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends’.”

Michael’s eyes widened, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he stared at his partner’s voice modulator.

“John 15:13”, Kitt clarified, for his driver’s ever-increasing perplexity. “It’s in the book you’ve read to me from. I’ve downloaded it to my data banks and dedicated some hours to analyze its contents. There are some things I can’t say I fully understand, but I suppose the passage I quoted is quite adequate for our present discussion. In a sense, we tried to put into practice the same principle. We strived to imitate it, even if we couldn't fulfill it completely. We dedicated our lives to a cause so others could enjoy their own lives in a better, more righteous way.”

Michael’s throat clenched, his eyes unusually moist. So Love was the answer. Love was what mattered in the end. Love was the reason why things had value, and without it, any purpose, despite how grandiose it might look, ended up being utterly senseless. Again, Michael felt his soul thirsting for the origin of Love, the place where his questions would meet an answer and his hunger for justice would be finally satisfied.

“Kitt?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“I think you might have a point.”

-o-o-o- 

As the years went by, Michael’s bedroom seemed more and more lonely, and his nightly visits to the garage increased. Sometimes Kitt and he would talk, sometimes they would stay together in silence, simply enjoying each other company. They had been friends for so long that they could practically communicate without words, anyway.

Eventually, Michael hired some construction workers to get down the wall separating his living room from the garage, creating a large room where both of them could spend the night comfortably.

Quite frequently, the idle movement of Kitt’s scanner would lullaby him to sleep, the regularity of the motion conveying a pleasant notion of security.

They had grown together, man and AI. They had evolved. They had laughed, cried, and despaired together; they had tasted the better of two worlds, and they had ended up together, each of them incapable of living without the other. And now they were aging together too, heading toward the end of their existence as true best friends.

“Kitt, what would you like to do… You know, when I am no more?”

The scanner stopped in its hypnotic track.

“I’d rather not consider the hypothesis, Michael.”

“I understand, pal, but we should give it a thought. I want you to stay safe and happy, Kitt. I don’t want you tied up to an old man like me. Together we can find you a new partner, someone who will cherish you and love you just as I did through all these years.”

The AI felt silent, and Michael had started to think he had chosen to ignore him when Kitt finally spoke out.

“The simple idea that you think I would leave you insults me, Michael. I had plenty of opportunities to leave in the past. I never did. Why would I leave you now? You forget one crucial detail – my most primitive directive, the very core of my whole programming, is _your_ life. I don’t want another partner. I will stay with you as long as you want me, and when your life meets an end, so will mine. It’s been a good journey together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Michael felt taken aback by the weight of his partner’s statements, his face opening up into an honest smile.

“I don’t say that I truly like you as often as I should, do I, partner?”

“Indeed you don’t”, the AI replied, his smart-aleck tone coming out, “but we both know you have never been good with words. Let’s just say your fondness becomes evident in your deeds, and that’s all that matters to me.”

-o-o-o-

Celebrating his eighty-seven anniversary alongside Kitt, Michael couldn’t help but think that using a walking stick was something he would never learn to appreciate. _It was necessary_, though, as Kitt used to remind him countless times.

“I could now use a nice set of wheels like yours, pal”, he said, limping slowly toward a bench by the lake, all creaking knees and aching muscles. "It would make moving around a lot easier."

“It would certainly improve the efficiency of the process”, Kitt agreed, rolling beside the human and letting him keep a hand on his hood for extra balance. “But don’t lose heart, Michael. Not many can keep up with my level of perfection.”

The old man shook his head and laughed heartily.

-o-o-o-

Michael couldn’t say the end had come unexpectedly.

All things considered, he had enjoyed a rather unique, long life, one he had learned to be grateful for.

He couldn’t say he hadn’t been prepared either. He knew this day would come. Back to his youth, he’d escaped several too-close-for-comfort confrontations with death. He couldn’t escape indefinitely.

So when his strength seemed to abandon him and he found himself incapable of dragging his old body out of bed, Michael closed his eyes in serene abandonment. He felt Kitt’s prow flattening against the palm of his hand, as the AI was decided to keep him company until the very end. Or could it be the very beginning?... There had been a time when Michael had started imposing limits on his own dreams. Now, however, beyond his closed eyelids and shallow breaths, new, delightful dreams seemed ready to unravel, beaconing him toward somewhere safe and warm and wonderful. He heard the rumor of an ambulance in the distance, doubtlessly alerted by Kitt, who would do everything within his power to protect Michael’s life. Kitt couldn’t protect him from this, though. It was the natural order of things; it always had been. But it wasn’t all. It couldn’t be.

As his senses dimmed and his conscience fled away, he held fast to a mental picture of his unusual partner, the one who had remained right beside Michael, built and programmed to help him. During the unsmooth beginning of their partnership, perhaps his programming had been the only factor tying Kitt to Michael, but such fact had changed. Kitt had stayed. He was well beyond his programming. He had stayed because he had wanted to – he had stayed with Michael because, in his very own way, he loved his friend dearly.

Then, suddenly, Michael finally got it. He too had learned to cherish Kitt, enjoying their friendship and the uniqueness of the AI with genuine love. He loved Kitt, and that love wouldn’t simply vanish. His fondness for his partner made a decisive part of who Michael truly was; it had modulated the person he had turned out to be, helping him become a better version of himself. Kitt wasn’t merely eternal in the material sense of the word. He was eternal in the hearts of those who loved him. Michael had the strange feeling that whenever he was going now would be a place where his feelings of love and friendship would outspread and expand into perfection. He would never have to say goodbye to Kitt, nor to any of those dreams he hadn’t possessed the strength to conquer. As the cycle of his life seemed to close off, Michael stood at the doorstep of something beyond his most demanding longings.

At last, it dawned on him. Those he held dear would never leave him, for they were engraved on his soul. His partner had saved his sorry butt more times than he could count, never asking for anything in return, content to serve his driver – not with robotic submission, but with authentic, compassionate fellowship.

Michael smiled, more peaceful than he ever thought to be possible, and let his mind drift away. It felt as if another presence intertwined with himself, his friendship with Kitt printed on the center of his being, bright and gentle and captivating. The bond between them was everlasting.

He was being summoned by the Source of Love, the One who had loved him first so Michael could learn how to love others.

Michael smiled again, the world around him dissipating, the fog fading away and giving birth to a true Life. He let the all-encompassing Love embrace him.

He could still feel Kitt’s prow against his hand. It was okay. They were safe.

For the very first time, they were going Home.

[1] Matthew 11:28-30

[2] Revelation 21:1-5


End file.
